


Where We Began

by AnneCumberbatch, OmalleyMeetsTibbs



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/pseuds/AnneCumberbatch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmalleyMeetsTibbs/pseuds/OmalleyMeetsTibbs
Summary: John tries to propose. Sherlock is oblivious
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 123





	Where We Began

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplyclockwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/gifts).



When the alarm went off early that morning, John jerked awake quickly to turn it off before Sherlock noticed. _Today’s the day_. His hands shook as he silenced the phone. John checked over his shoulder to make sure Sherlock didn’t wake to the sound. Sherlock shifted softly in the blankets but otherwise remained asleep. Carefully crawling out of bed, John headed to the kitchen. Once in the hall, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves before starting the more elaborate breakfast he had planned, all of Sherlock’s favorites. Toast with honey, bacon, and 3-minute eggs. He just hoped that he could get it all done before Sherlock woke up.

A few moments after John left, Sherlock stretched his arm out under the blankets, reaching for him. When he realized there was an absence of a warm body, Sherlock grudgingly opened his eyes. He growled low in his chest at the absence of his John and huffed softly. Gathering the comforter around him, he took it with him into the bathroom and started the shower.

The sound of the pipes groaning cut through the sizzling bacon and boiling water. _Bollocks!_ John rushed to set the table and remind himself of the speech he wanted to give. Tapping his pyjama pocket to check for the ring, he did his best to remain calm. _He’ll say yes...won’t he? Oh God, please let him say yes._ John turned back to the stove to flip the bacon and add the eggs to the water. _I’d say I’ve got another 10 minutes before he comes stumbling in here._

After standing in the shower long enough to have used 85% of the hot water, Sherlock got out and returned to the bedroom to get dressed. The quiet buzz of boredom pressed against the base of his skull and his fingers tripped in agitation over the shoulders of his suits hanging in the closet. After eventually selecting one, Sherlock decided against dressing and walked out in a pair of low-slung pyjama trousers and a dressing gown. He walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where John seemed...busy. He nudged up behind John and nuzzled his neck, searching for a kiss. “Morning,” his voice gravelly from having woken up just a little while earlier.

“Morning, love,” John said, sounding a bit strained from the nerves. He forced himself to act normal and turned his head to kiss Sherlock’s temple. Wet, dark curls tickled his nose. The smell of Sherlock calmed him more than anything else he had tried that morning. Relaxing into the body behind him, John rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and breathed in a clarifying breath, the food temporarily forgotten.

Sherlock sighed softly, wrapping his arms around John’s waist. After just a moment, he nudged John’s cheek with his nose. “Bored.”

Chuckling slightly, John shifted his weight forward to start cooking again. “Give it a mo, and I think that’ll change.” He flipped the bacon once more before moving it off the heat onto a plate. “I’ve made all your favorites.” After checking the eggs, he turned around in Sherlock’s grasp and placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips, rubbing circles over the sharp bones with his thumbs. “How’s that sound, hmm?”

Sherlock tilted his head down and nipped at John’s jaw. “Rather eat _you_ for breakfast.”

“I think that can be arranged, _after_ some real food, mind you. I’ve got something I want to talk to you about first at any rate.” John’s heart rate picked up at his own allusion to something that could, would, change their lives forever.

Sherlock grimaced and reached around John to pick up a piece of bacon. “Boring. I don’t like it when you have to talk to me about something. Always means I’ve done something unfortunate.” He grabbed another piece and walked around the kitchen table and plopped himself into his seat.

At the comment, John winced. _Is that true? God, I need to work on that._ Shaking the thoughts from his head, John put on a smile. “Well, this time you aren’t in trouble. But it is still serious. But not a bad serious. More of a happy serious.” When he realized he was rambling, John clamped his mouth shut, gathering his thoughts. “Well, at any rate... It’s fine.”

“You’re acting strangely, John. Are you feeling alright?” Sherlock munched on the bacon pieces. “Bring me more bacon!”

“Git,” John muttered fondly as he plated the bacon, eggs, and honeyed-toast. He took one last deep breath before turning back to the table to face the man he loved. The light shone across Sherlock’s face, making his pale eyes glitter and dark hair reflect back. The sight caught John, faltering his steps. A grin broke across his face, and he thought _Yeah, I can do this._ Placing the food in their respective spots, he sat next to Sherlock, reached into his pocket for the ring with one hand, and took Sherlock’s left hand with the other.

Sherlock’s phone rang, making John freeze. After fumbling in his dressing gown pocket, Sherlock produced the device. “Speak quickly.” As he listened to Lestrade’s response, Sherlock squeezed John’s hand and gave him a small smile, his eyes sparkling. “We’ll be there in ten.” Sherlock hung up and leaned over to plant a kiss on John’s cheek. “A case, John! Get dressed!” He lept from his seat and ran into the bedroom to change.

Blinking, John stared after his disappearing... _not husband yet_. With a shake of his head, he stood up and started clearing their plates, shoveling food into his mouth as he went. After dealing with that, he headed to the bedroom, hoping to try again there. Instead, a pile of clothes hit John in the face, and he knew it wasn’t going to happen. They dressed quickly, Sherlock constantly nagging, and made their way into a cab.

Once at the crime scene, Sherlock whirled away with a whoosh of his coat, bending over the body prone in the dirty alleyway. Greg hadn’t even opened his mouth before Sherlock had shushed him, so Greg made his way over to where John was standing. “So... congratulations?”

John shook his head. “Not yet, and be quiet about it please.” After a moment, he looked at Greg. “Actually, you kind of fucked it up to be honest, mate. He got your call right as I was about to.”

Greg’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit, I’m sorry!” he swore.

Quickly, John shushed him, keeping an eye on Sherlock. “Not here, you bloody idiot. But it’s fine. I’ll just do it somewhere else before tonight.”

“Right.” Greg nodded. “Best of luck then. Can’t wait to see you both tonight.”

Sherlock crouched next to the body and bellowed, “Evidence bag and glove!” He held out his hand. A nearby forensic officer hastily rushed forward and held out a bag and gloves. Sherlock snatched them from her and leaned forward, pulling the glove onto his left hand. He reached out and carefully picked stands from the body and placed them into the evidence bag. He stood and briskly walked back towards the main street. “John, come.”

“Sherlock, that’s evidence!” Greg called out in annoyance.

Sherlock waved a hand behind him. “I left some for you!”

Hurrying after Sherlock, John shot a look over his shoulder in apology to Greg as he caught up. “Figured it out then?”

“Conditioner on the hair strands will determine if it was the sister, which I firmly believe it is.” Sherlock raised his hand, and a cab pulled up to the curb. He opened the door for John while leaning forward towards the cabbie. “St. Bart’s Hospital.”

When they arrived, Sherlock flew out of the cab, leaving John to pay. _Git_. A smile crept onto his face. _My git._ He handed a few bills to the cab driver and followed after the quickly disappearing coat. John had a hunch he was heading for Molly. _Well, this could get interesting._

Sherlock flung open the doors to the morgue, startling Molly into dropping her scalpel onto the ground. “Oh! Sherlock, I wasn’t expecting to see you so early. Congratulations!”

Sherlock gave her a look before moving towards the chemical solutions cabinet. “It was an easy case, no need for congratulations. Heart attack?”

Molly glanced down at the corpse on the slab in front of her. “Oh. Yes. How-”

“Degree of tension in the pectoral muscles and the slight discolouration of the toes.”

Sherlock tugged at the cabinet before huffing in annoyance “Molly, this is locked.”

“You know where the key is. We have to keep it locked now, so lock it back up when you’re done.”

Sherlock hummed, went over to the drawer on the other side of the room, and rummaged in it for the key.

Molly turned to John and smiled. “Congratulations!”

Rubbing a hand over his face, John shook his head again. “Didn’t get the chance, bloody Lestrade called right as I was about to ask,” he whispered.

A hand flew to Molly’s mouth, “Oh no. Oh, I’m...Did I ruin it, do you think?”

“No, I don’t think he noticed, honestly. This is the one thing he hasn’t been able to pick up on. It’s a bit strange actually.” 

Sherlock walked back across the room, giving both John and Molly looks. “You congratulated John. Why? John hasn’t done anything worth congratulating.” He gave John a scrutinizing look. “You haven’t. Have you? No. You haven’t. Why were you congratulating him?”

“I finally found a recipe for those scones you like. Molly had been helping me with it. It was supposed to be a surprise.” He lied smoothly, turning a half-hearted glare in Molly’s direction.

Sherlock looked between the two of them, eyes calculating. After a moment, he nodded and moved back to the chemical counter.

“Oh no! I’ve gone and bungled it. I’m sorry, John,” Molly whispered, her eyes glittering, even as a frown formed on her face. She turned towards Sherlock and raised her voice “If you’ve already solved the case, why do you and John head out to Angelo’s for a bit of an early lunch? I can make sure to close up here for you.”

Sherlock unlocked the cabinet and removed the items he needed. “No. Can’t. This is time-sensitive. Need to get results before those idiots at Scotland Yard do. Shouldn’t be hard, but no reason to give them an unnecessary head start.” Sherlock locked the cabinet back up and tossed the keys onto the tray beside Molly. “Upstairs, John, let’s go.” He swooped out of the room, letting the door swing closed behind him.

As Sherlock passed by, a brilliant thought popped into John’s head. _The lab_. He followed and maneuvered himself in front of Sherlock as they headed upstairs, purposefully guiding them to the lab where they first met. _This could almost be just as romantic._ Leading them down the hall, he opened the door and let Sherlock in first. Sherlock brushed past him and settled at his favourite microscope to examine the product on the hairs he picked up at the scene. As John watched Sherlock set up his solutions and prepped his slides, he shuffled aimlessly, nerves racking up again. He bumped into a metal stool, and the feet scrapped noisily across the ground. John winced at the noise and leaned against the counter instead, thrumming his fingers against the tabletop in an agitated pattern. _Is now the time?_ His jaw opened to ask The Question, but almost immediately decided against it, _timing_ , and closed his jaw with a click of his teeth.

Sherlock huffed and shot a glare in his direction. “Why are you like this today, John? Whatever it is on your mind, go take a walk and come back when you’re capable of existing quietly.”

 _He’s right. He’s on a case. I’ve just got to keep it together a little longer._ John decided to head to the vending machine to calm his nerves with some food, not having had enough this morning during the interrupted breakfast. It would give him a chance to rehearse his speech again, and perhaps add a phrase or two now that they were here instead.

Once John had left, Sherlock was finally able to focus, successfully completing his analysis in record time. He reached down for his phone and clenched his jaw in frustration when he realized he must have left it at home. And John had left…. Shit.

Down the hall, John took the moment away to gather his thoughts and down some crisps, giving him enough of a breather to regain some of his confidence. He straightened his spine, wiped the crumbs off against his trousers, and strode back towards the lab.

Sherlock sat for a few moments, before realizing he could hear John’s steady tread returning down the hall. His shoulders relaxed slightly in relief. He could use John’s phone. Not to mention he always felt better when John was near. Keeping his eye on the eyepiece of the microscope, Sherlock waited until he heard the door open to hold out his hand to the side. “Can I borrow your phone? Mine is…” He waved his wrist slightly.

It couldn’t have been more perfect. John grinned widely to himself as he walked up to Sherlock’s side. After pulling out the ring, he placed it in the center of Sherlock’s palm and got down on one knee.

Sherlock looked down at him and blinked, his hand closing instinctively around the ring, but not looking at it. “What… What are you doing?”

John said, “Sherlock, from the moment we met in this room, you have transformed my life. You cured my limp, _I’m_ never bored, and you give me a purpose in life, even if it is just to keep _you_ alive. I love you. And I don’t want to spend another day of my life without you by my side. I want you to know, I want the _world_ to know you are the most important part of my life. So...William Sherlock Scott Holmes, will you do me the greatest honor of my life and marry me?”

Sherlock blinked, his face entirely blank. He blinked again, his hand tightly closed around the ring in his fist. With a slight tremor, he brought himself back online. “You—” He swallowed. “You want _me—_ ” He blinked. “To… to _marry_ you?”

Wrapping his hands around Sherlock’s fist, John rubbed his thumbs across the whitened knuckles. “Of course, Sherlock. Yes. I very much want you to marry me.” He smiled gently at his confused lover. “Please say yes,” he said in a low voice, still rubbing his thumbs over Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock’s eyes grew glassy, and he stifled a sob before looking incredibly alarmed at the sound that had just come from him. His shoulders shook from the effort of holding it back. He nodded rapidly, his curls bouncing. “Yes.” He choked out the response. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, John.” Sherlock reached for him, desperate for closeness; and the ring slipped from his palm and fell with a light _ting_ to the floor, rolling away.

With a startled laugh, John grabbed Sherlock and pulled him down to sit on John’s knee, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing it all over. After a few moments, he realized there had been a metal tinkling sound and pulled back from Sherlock. “Did...did you drop the ring?” he asked, barely stifling giggles at the whole situation. 

Sherlock flushed and pressed his face to John’s shoulder in embarrassment, mumbling his response. “It was an accident. Don’t be mad. I’ll find it.”

Holding tight, John prevented Sherlock from getting up. “It’s fine, Sherlock. We can’t have lost it. We’ll both look for it, ok?” He helped Sherlock stand before getting onto all fours instead, starting to scour the floor for the glitter of brushed gold metal.

Sherlock straightened, and he knew he was supposed to be searching for the ring, but as soon as he saw John’s arse presented in front of him, he lost all sense of logical thought. _John’s arse. My fiance’s arse. My_ husband’s _arse._ Sherlock bit his lip as his chest threatened to explode from the flood of emotions running rampant through him. He pushed down the tiny wave of panic at the overwhelming sensation and leaned over, reaching out for John. He tugged on John’s arm. “John… I’ll find it just… come here.”

When John looked up at Sherlock, he found an expression there that he normally only saw in the privacy of Baker St. _Oh God. What have I done?_ He stood up quickly and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist. “Love, what’s...what’s wrong? What did I do?” He leaned back and brushed the curls out of Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. He felt able to breathe when John was touching him, grounding him. Sherlock ran his hands over John’s chest and closed his eyes. “You did nothing wrong at all. The…” He cleared his throat. “Intensity. Of the moment was momentarily overwhelming, and I would appreciate it for you to not move while I continue processing the absurdity of the fact that you wish to spend the rest of your life with me of all people.”

Letting a smile back onto his face, John relaxed into Sherlock, head resting on his chest, just listening to his heartbeat. “That’s fine by me. I’m here and will be for quite a long while yet, my fiance.” A chuckle escaped him. “My fiance. God, that sounds good.” He rubbed a soothing hand up and down Sherlock’s spine. “Let me know when you’re done processing.”

Sherlock wrapped his arms tightly around John and closed his eyes, his world shrinking to the small area in the second lab of Bart’s that contained exactly one John Watson and one Sherlock Holmes-to-be-Holmes-Watson. Exactly three minutes later, he released John and tapped his shoulder. “I’m done, let go.” Once John let go, Sherlock knelt in front of him, swiped his hand under the desk and straightened, holding the ring in his hand. “Found it. I believe it’s traditional for the person who asked to place it themselves.”

With a smirk, John took the ring from Sherlock’s outstretched hand. “I do believe you are right.” He clasped Sherlock’s left hand in his and slipped the ring onto the fourth finger, twisting it a bit to move it past the knuckle. Once it was on, he stared at the new adornment, grinning stupidly. Looking at Sherlock and holding back tears, he says, “I love you, you stupid git. I love you so much. Ready to go home?”

Sherlock smirked slightly at John’s lovestruck expression. He tilted his head and pressed a tender kiss to John’s cheek, lingering for a few seconds to whisper into his ear. “You light up my life, John Watson.”

A giggle escaped him. He couldn’t stop it. He was just so damn happy. Not trusting himself to say anything more, John squeezed Sherlock’s hand and led them out, heading for home.

Before they left the room, Sherlock stopped them to dig into John’s pocket for his phone. After sending a text to Lestrade, he slipped the phone into his own pocket and tucked his hand back into John’s. “Home.”

The surprise engagement party hadn’t remained much of a surprise after the actual engagement, but it turned out to be a surprisingly warm event filled with the people they loved: Molly, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and Mycroft—though the latter was still in debate. All of the guests took just enough time to wish the new couple congratulations before making a timely exit, each carrying a box of the large selection of baked goods Mrs. Hudson had gifted them. The last to leave, Mycroft hesitated by the door in order to deliver some partially sentimental partially scathing final remark but was foiled by Sherlock shoving a box of scones into his hands and shutting the door in his face. “So long, fatty.”

After the last sounds of footsteps had disappeared, Sherlock turned back to John with a soft smile. He held out a hand to him, wiggling his newly adorned ring finger pointedly. “Husband-to-be.”

Wrapping an arm around his fiance, John pulled Sherlock flush against him, letting his hand travel to Sherlock’s arse. With a teasing smack to the plush backside, John placed a wet kiss to Sherlock’s jaw. “Race you to the bedroom?” he said with a wink and bolted down the hall, Sherlock following close after, locking the door firmly behind them. There would be no further celebrating tonight fit for the public eye.


End file.
